A collection of text and photos

Blue Sweaters

Chen Chen

for Sarah

Today we both wore blue sweaters.
Yours was like a memory of snow,
collected in a small wood bowl,

& presented at dusk to a choir
of young, soprano cats.
My sweater was more like

hopscotch, across a field
of ripe berries. Or perhaps,
in a past life, it was

the raincoat of an old man
who kept a love letter
in the left pocket, never sent,

till one day he drove his car
into the ocean. Words like kiss
& plum glowed in the belly

of an unfamous fish.
How I wish I could give you
some of its smallest bones, press

them in pairs along the lines
in your hands, tell you why
you are unhappy.